


Holding Out

by castieldeservesbetter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dean Being an Asshole, Depression, F/F, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Insomnia, Lesbians, MC has a little kid, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Teen Pregnancy, Universe Travelling, nicole saves people it's great, not Destiel friendly, there are lots of angels, wtf why is "useless lesbian" a tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 19:37:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9340076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castieldeservesbetter/pseuds/castieldeservesbetter
Summary: Nicole Griffin is an angry seventeen year old Supernatural fan with fiery red hair and a temper to match it. She's not particularly excited when she has to move away from her hometown of Pennsylvania to California. Well, at least, that's what is supposed to happen…While she's waiting for the moving van to arrive, something... odd happens. A ring of fire surrounds her. Supernatural star Richard Speight Jr. suddenly appears in her living room, spouting something about saviors and Leviathan. Everything goes dark, and next thing she knows, she's in the back of a car that is definitely not her mother's.Her life is turned upside down when she realizes that she's a long way from home. She’s stuck in a universe where monsters are real and her favorite television characters are alive. Determined to get back home, she struggles to save herself- and, maybe, some fictional characters along the way.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in 2013 so this is 4 years old now. god damn. i actually started writing this way back then bc i found the storyline from season 7+ to be s h i t so i wanted to save some of the characters that died and prevent some stuff from happening  
> also Finn is her son, he's 2  
> enjoy

Reagan hands me a pair of folded jeans from the end of the bed, avoiding my eyes. It’s not until I put the clothing in my duffel bag and turn around that I realize her hands are shaking.

I don’t say anything. I don’t need to, because after a couple seconds of us silently sitting on her bed, she laughs bitterly. “God, this sucks,” she sighs, her bright blue eyes sparkling with tears. Scooting forward and flopping onto my lap, she repeats for the millionth time, “You think it’s too late to convince your parents to hand over custody?”

“Probably,” I confess, playing with her auburn hair absently. “Mom refuses to sign any papers, and Dad does whatever Mom says.” A disheartened expression crosses Rin’s face, and I quickly add, “It doesn’t matter, though. In less than a year, I’ll be eighteen. And then I can legally come back here.”

Reagan shakes her head. “No, I don’t want you coming back here. That costs too much. I’m coming to you. Always wanted to get out of Pennsylvania, anyways.”

Of course. I don’t want to leave Pennsylvania, and she doesn’t want to stay in this place.

Not wanting to argue in our last hours together, I swallow my complaint and point out, “Haley and Lainie are gonna be pissed.”

“Haley and Lainie.” Reagan wipes her eyes and sits up. Reaching over to her nightstand, pulling out a black shirt. “Lainie got you this. She got Haley and I the same shirt. You know, so that even though you’re gonna be far away, we’ll still be together. You know?”

I smile, taking the shirt. “Yeah, I get what you mean. Finnie and I do the same thing with our rings.” I unfold the shirt and laugh when I see the design. “A devil’s trap? Really, Reagan?”

Reagan tries to hide her smile, laying back down. “What? We can all wear our shirts when we’re watching Supernatural. And, hey! We can even Skype you. I mean, Skype is free, right? But I think international calls cost money, though.”

I snicker. “We don’t need to worry about international calls. I’m not going to Istanbul, Rin, it’s just California.”

Reagan falls silent. “Just California,” she echoes quietly.

We don’t say anything else; we just stay on the bed, trying to ingrain this memory in our minds forever.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m sitting with my sisters in our house. My seven year old sister Jess keeps crying that we were never gonna see the house again, but I don’t believe in nevers anymore. My friend Haley says, “My mom says that everything has its own season. And the same four seasons come each year, so.”

So.

Mom used the word _never_ with me a lot- you’re _never_ going to see your sisters again, you are _never_ going to amount to anything, you and your gay bullshit will _never_ be welcome in my house- but here I am anyways. Sitting in the empty room that used to be the twins’ bedroom with our heads together like we’re little kids (well, the twins _are_ pretty young), holding hands and talking.

“You two are so old now,” I say, sighing fondly. “Last time I saw you, you were- what, eight? And now you’re… nine, right?”

Liesel nods enthusiastically. “Yeah! We’re gonna be ten in August.” Her face pinches up. “You didn’t forget our birthday, right?”

“August 10th, 2007,” I recite, giving her a funny look. “You really think I’d forget my sisters’ birthdays?”

Ashton grins and leans forward. “So,” she begins conspiratorially, “when is Finnie coming over?” At my alarmed expression, she quickly adds, “And we didn’t tell Tara or Jess!”

Liesel agrees, “She’s right. And we didn’t tell Mom and Dad, either. Or anyone else. So when do we get to see him again?”

I quickly look behind me to check that the door is closed. Once I’m sure, I turn back to them and tell them, “Finn is sick, so he’s with his dad in Seattle right now. He really wanted to come, though. He misses you guys a lot.”

I’m not necessarily lying about that last part. Finn doesn’t talk a lot, so I don’t know if he misses them that much. To be fair, though, he _did_ want to come back home with me. But that’s because he’d do anything to get out of chemo, not because he really misses my sisters. I’d be surprised if he even knew their names.

Ashton looks stricken. “ _Sick_?” she whispers. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Just something with his blood,” I lie, waving it off. “Some type of disorder. Can’t remember the name. But Seattle has one of the greatest blood hospitals in the world, so his grandparents took him there.”

 _Blood hospitals_ , I internally mock myself. _Is that even a thing?_

My sisters must think so, because they nod gravely. Before they can interrogate me any further, the door swings open. We break apart quickly to see my little sister, Tara, glaring at us from the doorway. She’s six years older than the twins and only two years younger than me, but she acts like she’s ten years older. She’s too pretentious for her own good.

“What are you guys doing?” the fifteen year old asks, putting a hand on her hip. When no one says anything, she raises an eyebrow. “Well?”

I haven’t seen Tara since my junior year. It’s been two years, and she looks almost exactly the same. Her blue eyes are just as icy and hard as the last day I saw her.

Her blonde hair is shorter, though.

(The funny thing is, even though Liesel and Ashton are twins, they have different features. Sure, their faces look alike but Liesel has bright red hair like me and Ashton has blonde hair like Tara. We all have blue eyes.)

“Why do you care?” Ashton snaps, standing up. Liesel and I follow her lead, exchanging stifled grins.

Tara sighs heavily like it physically pains her to talk to us. “I _don’t_ care. But the moving van’s coming soon and Mom said for everyone to come down.”

We begrudgingly leave the room. Once we’re out, I announce, “I left my duffel back in the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

Without turning around, Tara threatens, “If you take more than five minutes, we’re leaving without you.”

I ignore her and walk into the bathroom, quickly snatching my duffel. The mirror catches my eye, and I look at my face, sighing. Long ginger hair frames my face, and nervous blue eyes stares back at me.

“I'm not ready for this,” I whisper to myself, and go to my room.

When I reach my completely bare (former) living space, I’m not sure whether to cry or laugh. I look at the wooden floor, and choose to smile sadly. Tiny orange stains remain from when I was thirteen and decided to have a paint war with my siblings. Mom threw a fit and I still have the scars, but it was so worth it to hear Jess’s laugh for the first time.

Mom was always an awful parent. Even before the age of fifteen (the age when everything went to shit), she was a bad parent. Nine times out of ten, it was me making lunches for my siblings and changing their diapers and basically being their mother figure. Mom just isn’t mother material.

She’s such a bitch.

“You know, it’s not very nice to say things like that about your mother,” a light, male voice remarks from behind me. “After all, she _is_ the one who brought you into this world.”

Without thinking, I mutter, “I never asked her to give birth to me.” I whirl around after realizing that I don’t recognize the tone, and come face to face with-

“Holy shit,” I breathe out. “Richard Speight Jr.?”

He smirks. “Guess again.”

“Gabriel?” I guess, feeling stupid for even thinking about it.

To my surprise, he nods. He snaps his fingers and a ring appears on my finger. “In case you doubt my existence.” I blink rapidly, expecting him and the ring to be gone. When I open my eyes, I see him looking at me with a confused expression. “What are you doing? Are you having a seizure?”

“I’m hallucinating,” I mutter to myself, ignoring his question. “You’re not actually here. There’s no way. Jesus Christ, I’m going insane, aren’t I?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Wow. You know, for a Supernatural fan, I’d really expect you to _believe_ more.” I take the ring off, examining it. The band seemed to be made of silver. Light catches on the relatively large sized ruby, and my breath catches in my throat. “If that’s not real silver and it’s just your imagination, you should be able to break it. Go on. Try it.”

This is not happening.

I squish it as hard as I could, eyes widening when the ring remains intact and indentations form on my fingers. “Gabriel?” I repeat incredulously, looking up at the short man.

This is _not_ happening.

How is this happening?

“That’s me,” he answered, looking me up and down. “Nicole Griffin, yeah?”

I furrow my brow. “How do you know my name?”

“Nicole Griffin,” he repeats, ignoring my question. “Ginger hair, different universe, different year… yeah, I’d say you’re our girl.”

Clutching my duffel bag and sensing that something very, very bad is about to happen, I suspiciously ask, “The hell’s that supposed to mean? What do you mean by ‘our girl’?”

I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. My heart is pounding- whether it’s from excitement or fear, I can’t tell. “Wait, how the fuck did you even get in here?”

Stepping forwards, he says, “You’re the girl Dad told us about. You’re the savior. The one who’s going to save us from the Leviathan.”

I don’t have time to dwell on what the hell that’s supposed to mean, because before I can even think about saying anything, he quickly says, “This might hurt, but it’ll be over soon enough,” and presses two fingers to my forehead. I let out a yelp as I feel myself falling.

And, as they say, everything goes black.


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it gets a little bit better than here this is filler

****I don’t open my eyes immediately when I come back into consciousness.

I’m resting against something uncomfortable- my duffel. But it’s rumbling and vibrating… sort of like how it would in a car.

I’m in a car.

It must be Mom's car. ( _Gag_.) Everything I just experienced was probably just a hallucination.

A surreal, terrifying, very real hallucination. Reagan’s probably going to think I’ve gone mental when I tell her about this. Hell, maybe I have gone crazy.

I open my eyes, letting out a huff when I felt a pounding in my head. Forget about my mental health, Mom’s going to be even more pissy than usual if I don’t wake up soon. _I need to get up before she gets any madder at me._

I rub my face, flinching when I feel something cold brush over my cheek. _What the…?_ Confused, I look at my hand.

The ruby ring is still there.

Ice hot fear running down my spine, I look up and see a small clean car interior that certainly isn’t my family’s messy minivan. My vision shifts upwards, panic rushing through my veins. In the passenger seat were two brown haired guys. Not a gray haired man and a ginger woman.

Naturally, I decide to do the only thing deemed appropriate for the situation.

I scream.

The car swerves wildly, and I curl up on myself when I hear gravelly voices yelling.

 _I’m going to die_ , I panic to myself. _I’m never going to see Finn or Reagan again._

I shut my eyes- like it’ll do anything.

When the car stops and the door to my left is wrenched open, I scream again. _I’m going to die. I am dead. Holy shit, I am dead._

After a few moments of absolutely nothing, I slowly open my eyes. Shakily, I push myself up. I feel for my duffel bag, and when I get a grip, I clutch it close as if it’s my lifeline.

"Come out with your hands up!" A man's voice yells. Surprised, I startle and almost hit my head on the ceiling of the car. The voice is a little familiar, but I could honestly care less about whether I recognize it or not at the moment.

Slinging my duffel bag over my neck, I put my hands up and scoot out of the car. I squint at the brightness of the sun (definitely not the grey skies of Pennsylvania), and stumble out.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my car?" An undeniably familiar voice demands.

I turn to the source. "I don't know. I-" The words on my throat die out as Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki come into view, with Jensen holding a gun in a very Dean-like posture.

"Jensen, please don't shoot me." Tears well up in my eyes. "I- I don't know how I got in your car. Just please don't shoot me."

Jared looks over at me and quietly says, "Dean, she's just a kid."

 _Now is not the time to get into character, Jared._ Jensen examines me for a little while longer before putting his gun away. "How old are you?"

I debate lying, but I’m too afraid they’ll be able to tell that I’m not telling the truth and hurt me. “I'm seventeen,” I say, unable to keep my voice from trembling.

Jensen takes out a knife and holds it out to me. I stare at it, knowing what he wants me to do. "Are you serious?" I glance at it for a moment, disgusted. "Jensen, if this is a joke, please stop it. I’m a really big fan and all, but you’re scaring me. I know you play Dean Winchester, but you’re not him."

I expect them to burst out laughing. I expect everything to be a fucked up joke. I expect Jared to start explaining how they were doing a reality TV show, something, anything. What I don’t expect is for Jensen to glare at me and demand, "How do you know who I am?"

It is at this exact moment I realize that this is not Jensen and Jared. Jensen would never let a prank go on for this long, and Jared would never tolerate Jensen scaring a fan like this, even for a second. “You- you're really Dean Winchester,” I breathe out, hand going to cover my mouth in shock.

First Gabriel, now Dean.

Rin is seriously going to think I’m nuts.

Said hunter is giving me the look that my friends and I dubbed way back in season 5 as The Look of Death™. We always called it adorable and cute, and I admit that I did as well, but it’s not so cute when you’re on the receiving end of it. “I am. Now I’m going to ask you again, and I expect you to answer me. How did you get in my car?”

I’m pretty sure that the terror is painted all over my face, because Jared- no, _Sam_ \- repeats, “Dean. She’s a kid and you’re scaring her. Look at her face; she has no idea what’s going on.”

A new, also familiar voice pipes up from behind me, “Yeah, Dean, go easy on Gingersnaps. Honestly, who taught you your manners?”

Even before I turn around, I know it’s Gabriel. He directs the words at Dean, but his golden eyes are fixed on me. “You’re actually Gabriel,” I marvel to myself for a moment, before his words catch up to me. “Hold on, what the fuck did you just call me?”

Sam and Dean seem at a loss for words, and that’s when I remember that they have no idea he had been alive this whole time. The last time they saw him, it was back in 2010 back when Lucifer was still a thing.

Finally, after a few moments of silence charged with tension and electricity, Dean asks, “How the hell are you alive? We thought Lucifer ganked your ass.”

Gabriel raises his eyebrows. “I’m a trickster, in case you forgot. My big bro may have taught me some of my tricks, but I learned a lot while he was locked away.” He shakes his head. “But that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to make sure everything goes as planned with her.”

I remember all the fics I’d ever read like this. A normal, unsuspecting girl gets pulled into a shitstorm with the Winchesters, and eleven times out of ten, it’s a certain golden eyed archangel that pull them out of their world. “You’re the one who brought me… here.” I motion around me, my hands only slightly shaking now. “Am I right?”

“Bingo!” Gabriel crows. No one else looks that happy, but then again, I’ve basically been abducted and the Winchesters have to deal with a problematic teenager magically appearing in the backseat of their car.

I cross my arms. “Send me back to my family.” I try to sound confident even though I’m probably about two seconds away from pissing myself.

He tsks. “I’m sorry, Gingersnaps, but no can do.”

My blood boils at that. When I reply, it’s with a thick angry Scottish accent. Something I adopted from my grandmother when I was younger. Usually it’s not too thick, but when I’m angry, it gets heavy. “The hell do you mean ‘no can do’? You bloody fucking well _can_ do it, and you will. I’m not going to leave my sisters alone with my mother and leave Finn behind because you won’t get off your lazy ass and _send me back_!”

Gabriel raises his hands in mock defense, and I pale when I realize I had just yell at an archangel.

_Congratulations, Nicole. You just killed yourself._

“Relax. You’re not going to miss out on anything. Your world is in a sort of… stasis. Time has basically stopped in your universe, and it won’t start moving until you return.”

I only panic more; no one will realize I’m gone. He can do whatever he want with me- kill me or worse- and no one back home will notice. “Send me back,” I repeat, Scottish accent gone and tone lowered.

His look of patience unnerves me. “I’m not the one keeping you here. Well, I am, but I didn’t take you here because I felt like it. No, there was an order upstairs for you to be here.”

I fight the urge to scream out of pure frustration. I need Reagan and I need her now. She’s always so calm and collected. I’m the irrational one. “Why?” I snap, running my fingers through my hair. “Who would want me here and why?”

“I already told you.” Gabriel waltzes around, almost like we’re talking about candies and not something that could possibly change my life. “You’re the girl from Dad’s tablet. The saviour. The one who will save us all from the Leviathan.”

I glance back at the Winchesters, who look unnerved at the mention of the monsters. “Aren’t they all gone now?” Dean spoke up, worried. “I thought after we ganked Dick, they left.”

The archangel rolls his eyes. “No, they dispersed ‘cause they didn’t have a leader or a purpose. They didn’t know what to do with themselves. But now they do- purpose being wanting to kill everything- and we’re gonna die.”

Sam squints at Gabriel. “Why can’t you just take ‘em all out? You’re an archangel.”

I remember what one Leviathan had said from season seven and, keeping eye contact with the archangel, mutter, “Leviathans can kill anything, even archangels.” My voice is quiet, but it’s loud enough for them to hear.

Gabriel nods, not looking very happy. “Dad had a plan, in case they ever came back to Earth. It came in the form of a second Leviathan tablet. Super complicated, lots of details- Dad likes details- but it eventually led me to you.”

“But what does this have to do with us?” Dean demands. “Why’d you put her in our car?”

“You’re the idiots who brought the Leviathans here. Why do you think I put her in your car?” I understand and I think Sam gets the jist of it, but Dean is still clueless. Gabriel rolls his eyes again and explains, “You two brought the monsters here. And right about now, it’s looking like you’re the only ones who know how to get rid of them.”

I glare at him, wishing I had a knife of some sort in my duffel bag. It won’t do anything, but I really want to stab him right now. “I already have ten seasons and 38 books that I can work with, thank you very much.” I mean, I haven’t _read_ the books, but I mean. I have 38 _theoretical_ books to work with.

So… basically the same thing.

Dean still wears the Confused Bitch Face™ so Sam mumbles, “We’re supposed to- we’re supposed to take her with us, Dean.”

“What?” He doesn’t look all that thrilled at the idea of being stuck with me, and I’m not exactly open to the idea, either. “We’re supposed to babysit some moody teenager while Leviathans take over the world?”

I breathe out deeply and count to ten in my head, trying not to bite his head off. Gabriel stifles a grin, deciphering the oddly calm expression on my face. “Look, I’m just telling you what needs to be done. You already have the prophet with you, can’t you handle another kid?”

 _The prophet?_ I study Sam’s face. It doesn’t show anything except irritation and vague alarm, which I’m sure are emotions that we’re all sharing.

And what is it that Gabe said?

_“Ginger hair, different universe, different year.”_

Different universe, different year.

So it’s not 2015 here.

If Kevin is alive here and it’s after they kill Dick Roman, it’s got to be between season eight and season nine. 2013 or 2014. “It’s not 2015 here, is it?” I ask nervously, rocking on my heels and gripping the straps of my bag.

“Well, what year are _you_ from, Mrs. Marty McFly?” Dean sizes me up, not really glaring but not really _not_ glaring.

Instead of snapping at him and calling him a dickwad like I want to do badly, I cross my arms and, deciding not to press my luck any further, just repeat, “What year is it?”

Sam, who’s currently trying (and failing) to discreetly size me up, slowly answers, “2013. January, 2013.”

 _Season eight,_ I recall. _It could’ve been worse. I could’ve been stuck in season seven. But… Bobby’s dead._

He turns to Gabriel. “So what are we supposed to do? Just look after her?”

“That’s all you need to do,” the archangel calmly responds, looking at me. “Just make sure she doesn’t die. She needs to find out what to do next. She’ll know. It’s what Dad said.”

I tug on a strand of hair, frustrated. “When will I get back?” I try to sound angry, but my voice is too quiet to sound furious. “I have a life back home. I want to know if I’ll my people again.” Reagan, the twins, Haley, Lainie, Finn. I have family back home.

“You will, eventually,” he responds. But the few moments of silence before he answers hints that I won’t be seeing them any time soon. “Once it’s over, you can go back to your family. I’ll check up on you later, Gingersnaps, to talk to you.”

I nod mutely, and he vanishes.


	3. three

I’m trying not to cry or scream, but I only have so much self-restraint and I’m in a pretty fucking impossible situation right now.

So I won’t be able to see Finn or Reagan for God only know how long. I could handle being separated from Rin- it would be hell, but I could manage. But… _Finn_. What if he needs me and I’m not there?

“Hey, kid,” Sam says, breaking me out of my thoughts. I just stare at him for a few seconds.

Oh, yeah. I’d almost forgotten about him.

Meeting the Winchesters might be a dream come true any other time, but I just found out from a freaking _archangel_ that I can’t see my family again unless I eradicate _Leviathans_.

“I, uh.” Words fail me for a moment, and I swallow before continuing. “I’m sorry. We didn’t meet under the best circumstances. I’m Nicole.”

Sam nods curtly. “I’m Sam and that’s my brother, Dean.” I don’t have the heart or the nerve to tell him I already know who they are, so I just nod silently. “Sorry about the whole… spiel with the gun.”

Dean doesn’t bother with the bullshit. “You’re from another universe, aren’t you? The one where our lives were a TV shows. It’s why you called me Jensen, isn’t it.” He phrases the last sentence more like a statement than an actual question.

I shake my head awkwardly, wishing I could disappear. “Not exactly. I’m from a universe where we watched you… watch him die…”

He takes a few seconds to process what I said. “You’re kidding.” Dean throws a Bitch Glance™ at his brother. “So there are multiple universes where our lives are TV shows? Great.”

I dig my fingers into my palms, nervous as hell.  “Um, what happens now? ‘Cause if you’re going to ditch me somewhere later, I want to know now.”

Sam makes a face. “What? No, no. We’re not ditching you. Dean, can I talk to you for a moment?”

They go off to the side of the car, and it isn’t that hard to eavesdrop. After all, I’m less than 20 feet away from them. And while they’re not exactly the loudest whisperers in the world, I had watched them (on TV) long enough to recognize their mannerisms by now. Even if I didn’t heard them whispering, I can tell by their body language what they’re saying.

“So, what do we do? Do we take her with us?”

“I don’t know, Sam. We don’t know if we can trust her yet. Right now, ditching her doesn’t seem like the worst option.” _Thanks, Dean._ I was expecting it- after all, what kind of fan would I be if I wasn’t- but it still stung. I’d known them for so long, but they had no idea who I was.

“Dude! What the hell? She said she was, like, sixteen, right? You really gonna let a sixteen year old wander the streets on her own?”

 _You were off by one year,_ I think bitterly, kicking a rock on the ground and watching it skitter across the concrete. _I’m seventeen._

“You got any better ideas?”

“I think we just have to risk it and take her with us.” Dean doesn’t say anything in response, just gives him the Classic Bitch Face™ again. “What? We can’t just abandon a kid on the streets. Plus, Gabriel isn’t giving us much of a choice.”

Being thrown out would suck, but I could take it. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been kicked out on the streets before.

“She could kill us in our sleep, Sam. We met her five minutes ago.”

“You heard what Gabriel said about the Leviathans. What if we drop her off somewhere and one of them catches up with her?”

The older brother smoothly says, “We’ll drop her off somewhere safe.”

“She could get killed or worse if we don’t take her with us,” Sam argues. “Do you really want that on your conscience?”

Dean caves. I figured he would. He’s paranoid and sometimes on the show he could be a douche, but I knew he wouldn’t be able to handle the guilt if I died on his watch.

“Fine,” he hisses. “We’ll bring her. But if anything goes wrong, I’m blaming you.”

Pretending that I hadn’t heard them, I look up at them expectantly as they walk back to the car. “Come on, kid, you’re coming with us,” Dean orders.

“Nice,” I mumble under my breath, sliding into the backseat and trying to come to terms with the fact that this was real. It’s just not processing. Maybe I’m in shock or something, but I just can’t believe that Sam and Dean are real. Or that I have no way to get home.

Well… the only way I can get home is by eliminating hundreds of monsters that an _archangel_ is afraid of.

So, essentially, no way home.

I’m supposed to stop Leviathans because God mentioned me in a tablet. Maybe I should feel honored or excited by that- I know Reagan would be- but I just have this never ending pit in my stomach.

Dean starts up the car, and as I put on the seat belt, I realize that I’m probably not in Pennsylvania anymore. I don’t know why I thought I’d be in Pennsylvania since I’m in a different year and a different world/dimension/universe/galaxy/whatever. Clearing my throat, I ask, “Hey, what state are we in?”

“Kansas,” Dean dismissively answers.

Sam flashes me an odd glance from his seat, which is a lot more intimidating than it should be. “Where did you think we were?”

I twirl my hair absentmindedly, trying not to shrink back in my seat. I already cried in front of them; I don’t need them thinking I was any more of a wuss. “I live in Pennsylvania.” I pause. “Well, my family _lived_ in Pennsylvania. They’re moving to California today, so I figured I’d land there.”

He nods at my duffel. “Explains the duffel. Is that all you own, or did you leave all your stuff back… wherever you’re from?”

My cheeks burn red. _I don’t really spell out homeless, do I?_ “Where are we headed?” I ask instead, and by the look I receive, I’m pretty sure Sam knows that I deliberately changed the subject.

“Great question,” he commends sarcastically, turning around to his brother. “Dean, where are we headed?”

Dean drives away as fast as possible, ignoring his question. After a silence so long that I started fidgeting in my seat, he gruffly answers, “Missouri. We’re gonna get Kevin, and then we’re gonna sort this all out.”

 _Sort this all out? How?_ Unless they kick me out- which I thought they had said wouldn’t happen- there is no way of fixing this.

But, hey. I’m meeting Kevin Tran, so that’s a plus. Even if he’ll probably hate me, I might be able to save him. And if I’m going to be stuck with the Winchesters for a while, I’ll inevitably meet Castiel. God knows he can’t stay away from Dean.

* * *

 

I must have fallen asleep at some point during the drive, because the next thing I know, I’m waking up to someone shaking me softly.

“Uh, hello?” A familiar voice nervously calls. I immediately shoot up, nearly hitting my head on the car ceiling.

Still sleep addled, I wipe the crust off of my eyes (was I really asleep for that long?) and snap, “What? What’s going on?”

My eyes focus on a very real Kevin Tran, who’s awkwardly half-leaning in the car. “I’m not really sure,” he confesses, scratching his head, “but, uh, Sam told me to wait in the car.”

I clear my throat and nod blearily. “Yeah, okay,” I mutter, scooting over to the left seat.

Kevin sits down, and I notice that he has his own duffel bag. “Who are you?” he asks bluntly, eyeing me suspiciously.

I just sigh and lean my head against the glass. More awake now, I stare out the window and introduce, “I’m Nicole.”

The sky’s pitch black. Is it really that late? Missouri and Kansas are in the same time zone, and last time I checked, it was daytime, so I must’ve slept 8 or 10 hours.

Interesting… I’ve never slept more than six hours on a weekday before.

“Um, okay. I’m Kevin,” he replies, breaking me out of my thoughts. I don’t bother telling him I know. “Why are you here?”

I shake my head slightly, smiling without humor. “You’d never believe me.”

Kevin retorts, “Dean said that you were from the future of a different universe. It can’t get much crazier than that, can it?”

Turning around and staring him dead in the eyes, I deadpan, “I’m supposed to get rid of all Leviathans because God mentioned me in a tablet.”

“Huh,” he mutters. “It’s a stretch, but I guess I could behind it. I’m the guy who translates God’s tablets. I’m a prophet.”

I make an impressed face, acting as if this was new information. “Cool. Must suck, though, to have all that pressure on you. You’re all of- what, sixteen?”

That’s not a joke or anything. I’m just awful at remembering birthdays.

Kevin defends, “I’m eighteen, thanks.” In a weak attempt at a comeback, he mutters, “You’re the one who looks like you’re sixteen.”

“I’m actually seventeen,” I correct casually, as if it’s everyday that I converse with a fictional prophet of God. “And I know for a fact that I don’t look like a sixteen year old. That’s just a shitty comeback. Someone once thought that my sister was my daughter, and we’re two years apart.”

His face scrunches up adorably and we smoothly get the conversation off of the topic of his awful comebacks. “You have a sister?”

 _Four, actually._ I swallow down my thoughts and easily reply, “Yeah, I do. I wish I didn’t, though.” Even though I know the answer to the question I’m about to ask, I continue, “What about you? You got any siblings?”

“No,” Kevin responds ruefully, shaking his head. “When I was younger, I wanted a little brother, but not so much anymore.”

Has Kevin always been this talkative? I mean, I’m not exactly complaining, but it’s just surprising. In the show, he’s shown as an irritable eighteen year old. His main personality traits are that he’s supposedly withdrawn, irritable and untrusting. Then again, it could be because he was completely alone with the Winchesters- the same people who abandoned him.

… I _really_ don’t want to think about this right now.

Pushing it to the back of my mind for now, I resisted the urge to mention Liesel and scoff. “Believe me, you don’t want little siblings. Tara’s a demon. She’s been taking my stuff since the dawn of time.”

“Who’s a demon?” Sam asks through Kevin’s open window, making me jump. Sam and Dean open their respective car doors and got in.

My cheeks burn (why did I compare my little sister to a demon in front of a bunch of monster hunters?) but no one seems offended or anything. Kevin answers for me, “Her sister, Tara.”

“Older or younger?” Dean questions, giving me a knowing look as he starts up the car. I have to stifle a very unattractive snort.

“Younger by two years,” I respond. I almost add, _I have four other sisters,_ but ultimately decide against it. The less they know about me, the better. “She used to always take my stuff. Clothes, toys, books, you name it.”

Dean nods his head towards Sam. “Same here,” he replies, grinning. “Kid used to snoop through my stuff all the time when we were younger.”

Sam smacks him on the shoulder. “I did _not_ ,” Sam hisses, glaring at his brother and pouring emphasis into the last word.

The glower Dean sends his brother could kill someone, so before they start throwing knives at each other, I cut in, “Where are we headed?”

“Probably a motel,” Dean dismisses, their little scrimmage easily forgotten- as is most things with siblings. “We drive back to Kansas in the morning unless we catch something. So, you’re supposed to take out of all the big mouths, right? How exactly are you planning on doing that?”

 _What the hell is a big mouth?_ It takes me a couple seconds to realize that he’s talking about the Leviathans. I’m not exactly accustomed to speaking Dean Winchester. “I don’t know,” I say, giving him a funny look. “I haven’t even been here for a day. Give me some time to think.”

“The drive here was six hours,” Dean accuses. “I’d say that’s more than enough time to think.”

I roll my eyes. “The last time I slept on something that wasn’t a desk was last month. Sue me if I wanted to catch up on some sleep.”

Kevin knowingly asks, “Finals week?”

“Something like that,” I vaguely say. More like court dates and foster care and legal shit and _Finn_ than anything. “Anyways, I have nothing right now. But everything has a fatal weakness, right? Nothing is _really_ immortal, so there has to be something out there that can kill Leviathans for good.”

Sam doesn’t outright say that he doubts me, but his tone is skeptical. “And what if we can’t find their, uh, fatal weakness in time?”

I shrug. “I’ve never seen a Leviathan firsthand, but I know how dangerous they are. If we can’t find something and it’s a true emergency, then we’ll have to find a spell or something. And I mean, I’m sure _some_ angels would be willing to help, right?”

Kevin huffs out a laugh. “Angels willing to help us? That’s new. What angels would want to help us?”

“Gabriel, for one,” I offer. When Dean bursts out into laughter, I defend, “Hey! I know he can be a dick-”

“ _Can_ be a dick?” Sam snaps. “He _is_ a dick. Period.”

I know that Gabriel’s an asshole and the Winchesters hate him, and what he did to Sam (and Dean) _was_ cruel without a doubt, but still. Looking at Gabriel is like looking at Richard Speight, and I can’t help but defend one of my favorite actors.

 _But this isn’t my favorite actor,_ I remind myself. _And this isn’t the funny Gabriel in the stories that cracks jokes and plays harmless pranks. This is the guy who killed Sam’s brother over and over again just to teach him a lesson._

Sure, Mystery Spot might have been a funny episode to watch, but that’s because I had known it was fictional then. I didn’t know then that there was an actual Sam Winchester out there that had to suffer through that.

Narrowing my eyes, I continue, “Alright. Gabriel _is_ a dick, _period_ , but he’ll help. If he didn’t care about the world, he wouldn’t have forced me here.”

“The only reason he cares is because big mouths can kill him, too,” Dean persists. “He’s only in it for himself. If these things weren’t a threat to him, he wouldn’t be helping.”

I retort, “All the more reason for him to help us. Self preservation and all that, right? He’d do anything to get rid of the threat, and if anything means having to help us, then so be it.”

“You got a point,” Sam admits, “but if Gabriel was desperate enough to bring you here, then that means he was out of options. How can he possibly help us?”

“Time travel, guys.” I’m amazed by their utter stupidity. “If something goes wrong, Gabriel can send us back in time to reverse all of this.” Dean opens his mouth to speak, and I cut him off. “Yes, I know how the Leviathans got here in the first place, and yes, I know that changing time is against the rules of Heaven or whatever. This is a last resort. Like a plan B. Or a plan C.”

“You know how they got here,” Dean repeats to himself. Then, he clears his throat. “Plan B? You, uh, got a plan A?”

I resist the urge to reach over and smack him upside the head. "Working on it," I say, trying not to reveal the undertones of irritation. 

How the hell am I gonna do this?


End file.
